Free Confessions from the Principal's Chair by Anna Myers

style whatsoever, the same slouchy walk, and sort of nothing clothes, some kind of worn-looking beige pants.
    "The files are over there, Ms. Miller," said Mrs. Simpson, who had followed the girl into the office. "Should I get Serenity's for you?"
    "Oh, the file," I said. I should have thought of the file myself. Principals and counselors really love files. They were always whipping out mine. "Certainly, I will want the file."
    Mrs. Simpson opened a filing cabinet, took out a thick folder, put it on my desk, and went out, closing the door after her. I was thinking fast, trying to remember what counselors and principals had said to me. Questions! They usually started with a question. "Well, Serenity," I said. "Would you like to tell me why you slapped a girl in math class?"
    "Aren't you going to tell me to sit down first?"
    "Yes," I said. "Certainly, take a chair if you would be more comfortable." I waved in the direction of the chair across from my desk.
    Serenity settled herself in the chair, hunched over. I waited for her to look up, but she didn't. Nothing but silence. Just be quiet, I told myself. I'd had that silent treatment used on me, and I remembered that it had worked, made me start to talk.
    "They pick on me," she finally muttered. "They pick on me all the time." Her voice got louder on the second sentence. I remained quiet. "You can read all about it. I bet there's plenty about it in that stack of junk about me."
    I looked down at the papers in her file, shifted to the form on the bottom, and read. The note had been written by Serenity's first grade teacher. "Serenity is a happy, bright child. She has a wonderful imagination." Well, something sure happened to her since.
    I put the papers back into a stack. "I could spend lots of time reading about you," I said to the girl, "but I'd rather hear what you have to say. Why do other kids not like you?"
    Serenity shrugged, but she didn't look up. "They're jealous I guess."
    I laughed out loud, and that made Serenity finally look up at me. "Why would they be jealous of you?"
    She shrugged again. "I don't know. Maybe they're not jealous. They pick on me. That's all." She bit at her fingernails.
    I wanted to slap her. "Stop biting your nails!" I yelled. "Don't you know you can't let them see you biting your nails or even let them know that your nails have been bitten. You can't let them know that they get to you."
    She stared at me, confused. "Huh?"
    "The people who pick on you! Don't let them know you bite your nails."
    The girl looked up at me and shrugged. "Whatever," was her only answer. I didn't even think about what she said. It was the look on her face that got me. Her eyes were big and brown, and I guess they could have been pretty except they weren't. Those eyes made me think about a dog that someone kicked every day.
    I wished Serenity would look down again. I didn't want to see those eyes anymore. The really wild thing was how I kept seeing Marcy Willis, like she was the one sitting in that chair. Suddenly I could totally remember how Marcy looked, especially the way her eyes were. I did not want to see Marcy Willis in Prairie Dog Town, Oklahoma. I got up and walked over to the window. I'd finish the discussion without looking at Serenity, but I had to say something. I wanted the girl out of my office. "Who picks on you? The whole eighth grade? Do they all hate you?"
    "I don't like to talk about this stuff," she said.
    A strange feeling came over me. I whirled around and stomped my foot. "Well, you're going to talk about it," I yelled, "and I am going to put a stop to this nonsense." That last part just sort of came out. What nonsense did I mean? I wasn't sure. I didn't even know whose side I was on, Serenity's or the girls who picked on her.
    Serenity looked up, surprised, but she wasn't nearly as surprised as I was. Could I really think I wanted to help this girl? I went back to the desk and sat down behind it. "Now first you tell me who picks on you." I tore